


Oh My Laird

by blue_muslin



Category: Monarch of the Glen
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-24
Updated: 2011-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:17:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_muslin/pseuds/blue_muslin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Laird is on his own for a little happy-fun-in-his-pants time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh My Laird

Archie was not here because he loved the glen, or because the family needed him. He was here because there was no other option. Glenbogle was an estate that was creaking and groaning under the weight of tradition, and Archie was here as the ruler, the pilot, the leader, the Laird of Glenbogle. The reluctant Laird of Glenbogle. His new job was like his old job with a lot more tradition and a lot less pay. This Laird thing was not for people who wanted to get rich, nor was it for people who were actually rich. Not that the rest of Scotland knew about his fiscal predicament, no. Thanks to Archie’s dedicated staff and bizarre family, Glenbogle kept running...somehow. The idea of being Laird was not one of Archie’s favorite things to think about, because the difficulties of running an ancient estate in the twenty-first century outweighed the few perks that came with the title. Today, however, was a day for perks. Or at least an afternoon for it. With Golly and Duncan leading his dotty father and Kilwillie off on some silly fishing quest and Molly in Glasgow with Lexie for their monthly shopping, Archie could do as he pleased and think as he pleased where he pleased and when.

“I am Laird of Glenbogle,” Archie sighed to himself as he slumped up the stairs from the kitchen. “Why am I stuck eating cold sandwiches and scrounging for my own tea, then? I AM the Laird here. I should at least know where the meat is kept to make a sandwich or something.”

At the door to his suite--”Why is it a suite when it’s just one room and no privy?” Archie always wondered--Archie stopped to listen to the big, old house. His big, old house. The usual creaks and groans and settling noises greeted his pause, and a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. This was his place, all right. Archie threw open the door, waited for it to crash into the bookshelf, and stepped in to kick off his boots. As he dropped onto the edge of the bed to pull off the thick socks required under boots in the Highlands, a thought occurred to Archie: Why go out for entertainment when he had it right here, hrm? And by “right here” Archie definitely meant “in his pants.” He was the Laird, after all.

Archie didn’t even bother to pull his trousers off. That was work he wasn’t interested in doing, being the Laird and all. Rather, he stretched out on his bed, one sock still on, trousers buttoned, shirt half-tucked, cock swelling under all that kit. As his legs stretched out and his arms hit the edge of the bed, Archie’s pants got tighter; and his smile got bigger.

“I am the Laird of Glenbogle, aye,” Archie announced to no one in particular. Hearing his own voice announce his position made the situation in his pants more urgent, but he was in no hurry today. His hands found their way to his chest and with it, his shirt buttons. Lazily, Archie undid the first button his fingers landed on. He parted his shirt and toyed with the skin underneath. The light touches from his own hands felt nice, and the continued stirring in his pants affirmed the nice feeling. Archie found another button to undo, with another series of caresses across his chest. When Justine did this, it always gave him chills. Archie never thought his own hands could achieve the pleasure that a woman’s hands could.

“This is one time I don’t mind admitting that I have been very wrong,” he announced, again speaking to no one. “Fancy that, the Laird being wro...” His own pronouncement trailed off as he found his nipples. That was a nice touch, he thought. These nipple things attract women like magnets, and Archie had never quite understood that their power had been universal. With a light touch, he managed to make his trousers nearly pop off with delight.

“Ah, the Laird’s touch is magical,” Archie sighed, twisting his right nipple gingerly. That nipple was hard and full of delicious feelings, but his other nipple was tragically under-served. His left hand abandoned the button band he’d been clinging to and slipped a few inches over to the nipple. Just a light, simple touch sent his mind reeling. One twist or pinch would undo all his hard work, Archie realized. Time for diversionary tactics, as Kilwillie would say. To divert his attention, Archie finished unbuttoning his shirt...all two buttons left. He gingerly unbuckled his belt, being careful to avoid brushing his aching cock. A deep breath later and the button on his trousers was coming undone.

“Well, Laird, it’s time to see exactly what you rule,” Archie narrated to his non-existant audience. “Time for the main show.” Archie’s hand dipped inside his boxers, making his cock jump in anticipation. Willing himself to move in slow motion, his fingertips made contact with eight inches of quivering, throbbing Laird waiting for him. This was a very good thing for Archie, all things considered. The slow-motion, teasing, tortured movement toward his waiting cock was a really good thing for the Laird. When his whole hand made contact with his throbbing dick, Archie’s heart must have stopped for...well, with heart goes brain so Archie had no idea. The entire world must have stopped just then. The only thing going on was his amazing masturbation session.

“Oh my Laird...,” were the only words Archie could manage, not even conscious of his Freudian slip. His long fingers tightened around his cock, taking him to a new level of sexy excitement. If he moved anything just now, any little thing, he would completely lose control well before he wanted to so Archie held stock-still. The pleasure of the moment was not lost on him, either. Archie took advantage of the self-imposed pause to let the moment register in his semi-paralyzed brain. This was very, very good. To continue the very, very good, Archie slid his fingers up his engorged cock to the head, adding to the pressure as he got closer. A quick downward stroke and a matching up stroke brought Archie seconds from the climax he’d been promising himself. Stopping for just a beat to consider, Archie gave his throbbing dick one more good stroke down as the hot cum rose.

A catch and gasp later, Archie’s hand was still clenched at the base of a twitching cock while a small puddle of sticky, hot jizz warmed his stomach. Somewhere were a few missing minutes, lost to the ages, Archie reasoned.

“Well, sir, best clean up,” Archie told himself as he pulled his hands from his trousers. “In a few minutes. I am the Laird, you know.” Instead of cleaning up, Archie moved his tired arms up and rested his slightly sticky hands behind his Lairdly head.

“There are perks to being the Laird after all,” a contented Archie sighed to no one in particular.


End file.
